Transplant

Transplant.

Dear heart do not knock so rapid on heavens
door; seventeen years old, you wanted to go
dancing, the spring night called your name

Be patient, my lovely, be kind to an old man
who carries you in his chest, he understands
your desire as you know of his deep despair.

The day will come when you both are free,
and, unburdened by physicality, be of the same
age; fall in love as, indeed, is our right.

Enchanted dance in never ending May nights,
when stars are near as blossoms on apple trees;
and we both believe in love and perpetuity